


Benefits

by KestrelShrike



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Sparring, art based, prompt, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: A prompt request from @angie-de-alien: a drabble based off a lovely piece of art by @dishonorablecarrot! Jaal and Wren Ryder spar in the confines of the Tempest, and Ryder is extremely distracted. It goes about as well as you think it would.As always comments are EXTREMELY appreciated and loved. Also, I’m looking for beta readers for future fics, especially my Kandros fics, so if you’re interested, please hit me up.





	Benefits

Maybe sparring with her boyfriend hadn’t been Wren Ryder’s best idea, but few people told the Pathfinder ‘no.’ Well, that was a lie. Many, many people told the Pathfinder no, but the amount of people she actually listened to could possibly be counted on one hand, if that hand was missing a few fingers, which was how she found herself stretching out her muscles in the Tempest’s cargo hold, the Nomad safely lifted above, the entire crew watching and trading bets back and forth.

“Ethically, I can’t condone this. You all know that. Also, ethically, I can’t actually kick any of you off the ship for betting against me, but I don’t think I need to remind any of you that ethics are a fast and loose thing.” It was difficult to glare down Liam and Vetra’s exchange of money when they were several feet above her, both of them watching with that amused, tolerate stare she knew so well. They may have had a point in putting their money against her, given that she was significantly shorter and less muscular than Jaal, who stretched in his own corner, eyes half-closed.

 

Her own muscles were feeling sufficiently limber, giving Ryder ample time to wonder what she had been thinking when she asked Jaal to teach her some Angaran hand-to-hand moves. Thanks to Peebee snooping nearby, a lesson had turned into a show of prowess, one which SAM was happy to repeatedly say, “Pathfinder, this course of action is not advisable,” to. Thanks, SAM. Like she wasn’t already aware of that.

“Your father had no profiles designated specifically for non-weaponized combat. I will be unable to assist,” he added, just to rub salt into the wound.

“I’m not going to cheat, SAM.” Actually, Ryder had very much considered cheating right up until that moment, when it was revealed that cheating was apparently not an option. Okay, plan B. What was plan B? Try and fight as much as she knew how to, which amounted to a few self-defense courses taken in the context of her initial Alliance training and never studied since. As she recalled, she had been particularly awful at it, only her skill with a gun keeping them from laughing her out onto the street.

At the other end of the hold, Jaal was carefully removing his rofjinn and his shirt, stretching out one arm and revealing every inch of muscled flesh and pink skin as he did so. Whatever stretches Ryder had been half-heartedly attempting were forgotten in exchange for blatantly staring and taking in the picture. Something about benefitting, right? And oh, she was benefitting, even if it was something she had seen before. A lifetime probably wasn’t enough to take in the way his back moved under his skin, or the way his chest moved and flexed around his bony chest protuberances. Angara fit into that niche of being undeniably alien, but familiar enough that they could still be attractive. Then again, Ryder’s way of thinking may have been slightly biased.

“Ryder, you going to drool all day are or you gonna fight? Because I have other things I could be doing,” Peebee called down, making Cora laugh behind a hand and Gil out loud, not bothering to hide it.

Right. Sparring. “Ready,” she called out, managing to sound not ready at all. At least Lexi was hanging around, looming with a frown, so if Ryder was injured, a doctor would be on hand. No, not ‘if’ but ‘when.’

In the confined space, Ryder and Jaal circled each other a few times, trying to assess each other’s movements in a way they hadn’t before, ie outside of the bedroom. “Don’t be afraid to hit me, Jaal.” Knowing him, he’d hold himself back. Really kind of defeated the purpose of sparring when your partner was afraid you’d break though, not to mention bruising her ego if he thought she was so delicate that she couldn’t take a few punches. “Not the face though. I need that.” Ah yes, relying on her questionably good looks. Flashing him a grin, Ryder went in for the kill, tired of the endless circling and sizing up and equally tired of being distracted by a flash of abdominal muscles.

Fists raised in such a way she knew was too high, Ryder took a swing at Jaal’s shoulder, trying to use her height disadvantage to get under his guard. It was more an exploratory swing than anything else, and she wasn’t surprised at all when he blocked her easily, using his heavier body to push her backwards. Unfortunately, her stance wasn’t centered and she was caught off-balance, stumbling when she should have been smooth. His return swing, luckily enough, was too high; perhaps Jaal was used to opponents his own size, his fist whizzing by her face, close enough that she felt the breeze.

New strategy time. If she couldn’t go high, Ryder had to go low. Angaran anatomy being what it was, going the truly low road wasn’t an option, but she thought that something could be done with Jaal’s legs. They faced the wrong way, after all, and they were spindly in comparison to his upper body. If he had a weakness, it had to be there.

Circling each other a few more times, both let out a few experimental punches, more feeling the air than anything else. What Ryder had on her side was speed though, and she dove in again, bringing her leg up in a high kick meant to hit Jaal’s knees from the front and send him crumpling down.

Either he saw the move coming or she had woefully underestimated the strength of his legs. Either way, her kick hit him, but it wasn’t enough to do more than send him back a single step, and then his own foot shot forward, hitting her precisely behind her knees and sending her crashing to the floor. In just a few seconds, Jaal had her pinned to the floor, leaning on her shoulders to keep her down, the full weight of his body too much for her to throw off without the aid of her armor and SAM’s help. At least it wasn’t a bad view, all things considered, and if they were both panting and sweaty… Well, suddenly fighting was the opposite of what Ryder wanted to do.

“That’s it? Ryder, come on, get up!” Oh, there was an audience, wasn’t there? And from the groans, Ryder had just cost Liam and Drack a pretty penny each. Everyone else had apparently put their money on Jaal, satisfied with how the fight turned out.

“I think she wants to stay down there,” Vetra said, tone dry. “Show’s over. Go get a room, you two.” One by one, people were filing out, some still grumbling over how short the fight had been and how unsatisfactory the result was. Hey, she had never claimed to be good at fighting unarmed. Their loss.

Still pinned, Jaal leaned down and press his mouth to hurts, their bodies smashing together for a single instant before fatigue got the better of them and Jaal stepped off, standing up and offering Ryder a hand to get up. “You are unhurt?” He was so concerned even now.

“I think I bruised my tailbone, but I’ll survive.” And her right fist hurt a little, but there was no way she was admitting to that in front of him. The Pathfinder couldn’t have weak, puny fingers and a butter-soft punch.

“Dearest, let me help.” Before Ryder could protest further that she was perfectly fine, Jaal had picked her up. Rather than a romantic cradle to the chest, however, he swung her over his shoulder in an undignified fireman’s hold that, at the very least, gave her a good view of his backside as he carried her back to her quarters.

“Jaal, who told you I wanted to be carried like this? Put me down, I can walk.” Her pride was more bruised than her legs, after all.

“Liam told me this was how human women prefer to be carried.” Puzzled, Jaal didn’t set her down, instead opening her door and putting her down on the bed. Given the awkward hold he carried her in, it was more of dumping her on the bed to sprawl out and then try and collect the shattered remains of her dignity.

“Liam is a dirty liar.” Rubbing her bruised tailbone, Ryder stretched out her arms a final time before collapsing back on the bed, face down and softly groaning. “You owe me a round two. Right here. As soon as I can get up.” She managed to flop over onto her back, sitting up with another painful noise, and then standing. “Best two out of three.” Her fists raised in a classic boxer’s pose, waving them back and forth in the air and right in front of Jaal’s face.

In response, he swept his leg behind hers again. This time, Ryder had her considerably softer bed to fall down to, and she was less than surprised when Jaal pinned her for a second time, holding her there gently, loose enough that she could break away if she so chose. Which she did not. “That is two, Ryder.” His voice was a low growl in her ear, inches away from it, close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck.

“Fine, you win, this once. Come here and accept your award.” It was good that Ryder’s door closed automatically; the whole of the Tempest had already seen enough.


End file.
